"Well, I'm glad you didn't,"—his voice was eager.
"But he wanted you—"
"Good for Danny—he was always a wise child."
When the patient was made comfortable in a rocking-chair, with a package of Japanese water "Flowers" and a cup of water in which to expand them, as a means of keeping his mind from despair, Pearl made a hurried survey of herself in the mirror, and pulled her brown hair into curls over her ears.
"Ears are not good this year, Mary," she laughed. "They must not be seen."
A roar of pain from Danny brought her flying back to him.
"Stay with me Pearl," he shouted, "I'm a sick man, and tell the kids to keep quiet—it jars me—I can't stand it—it makes me all go cold!"
Pearl sat down beside him, making a rather unsuccessful effort to be becomingly solemn. Mary hushed the shouts of the others, who were quite ready to be thrilled by their brother's precarious condition—and when the doctor came in, the Watson brothers assembled to hear the verdict.
"He will recover," said the doctor. "Not only recover, but regain the full use of the injured member. But it's a bad, bad sliver just the same, and some boys would cry if they had it."
Danny set his lips tightly together, as one who was determined to endure to the end.